Outside the Touch of Time
by kenobrea
Summary: Obi Wan and Anakin Same Age AU. The events of the prequel trilogy as experienced by padawans Kenobi and Skywalker. In the first installment, the boys meet on a desert planet and proceed to completely upset each others' worlds.
1. Chapter 1

_" To the outside world we all grow old. But not to brothers and sisters. We know each other as we always were. We know each other's hearts. We live outside the touch of time." **–**_

Obi Wan sat staring at the console on the sleek ship, comlink waiting idly in his hand. After nearly two years of apprenticeship, he had already learned many of his master's habits. The tall Jedi's extended absence and lack of communication suggested that somehow, somewhere, Qui Gon Jinn had stumbled upon yet another pathetic life-form. The young padawan closed his eyes and leaned back in the cushioned chair, hoping against hope that this latest hypothetical pet project would at least be lacking in such things as _tentacles_ and _teeth_. It was unlike his master to remain out of contact for so long without a reason.

"Excuse me, young Jedi." The queen's handmaiden- Dorme, was it?- interrupted his brooding. "Her majesty requests your presence. We are receiving a transmission from Naboo."

Obi Wan nodded and followed the girl to the queen's receiving room. He bowed deeply and sat near the Captain of the Guard, glancing fleetingly at the young monarch while the technician patched the message through. Obi Wan had been astonished to learn that the ruler of the Naboo was barely a year older than him, but Queen Amidala had already proved herself to be both brave and compassionate, and worthy of her peoples' faith in her. Still, he sensed her pain and anxiety as her advisor's holoimage pled for her assistance. She may think it worth the risk to contact him personally. She would listen to Qui Gon if he was here- he always commanded respect and loyalty, even from people he'd just met. Obi Wan summoned his most authoritative tone. "Make no reply," he commanded, striding from the room. Then, for good measure, "make no transmissions of _any kind_."

Thankfully, Qui Gon was finally able to answer Obi Wan's comm. "Master," he breathed, relief and aggravation evident in his tone. "You've been out of contact for _hours_."

"I am sorry, Obi Wan. I've been attempting to negotiate for the parts we need. Were you aware that Toydarians are immune to mind influence where money is concerned?"

"I was not, Master, though I'll be sure to remember it the next time we're stranded on an uncivilized dustbowl," he quipped, then remembered the reason for his comm. "Master, we've had a transmission from an official on Naboo- a plea for help, though I sense it is a trick. I told the queen not to reply, but I fear she may become desperate where her peoples' lives are concerned."

"You did rightly, Padawan. It sounds like bait, to establish a connection trace."

Obi Wan was grateful for the confidence evident in his master's voice, but it still left them in a difficult position. "What if it is true, and the people are dying?"

Qui Gon sighed. "Either way, we are running out of time."

The connection ended, Obi Wan took to pacing restlessly around the ship's comm center. Though grateful for his master's faith in him, he still doubted himself. Often. And right now he sincerely doubted his ability to keep the queen from making a transmission. After all, he wasn't quite fourteen. His robes and cloak surely weren't enough to inspire obedience from anyone. His newly-build 'saber might do the trick, but it seemed to him that whatever intimidation he could count on from that corner would always be outweighed by the undignified dimples that marked the last vestiges of childhood on his adolescent face.

And there was something else- though they were many klicks apart for their conversation, Obi Wan had sensed that Qui Gon was keeping something from him. Something _important_. He'd felt a disturbance in the Force when they'd landed on this horrible, sand-covered world, and his master's secrecy was not a source of inspiration. Sighing, he turned his focus back to the present moment, _where it belongs, padawan mine_. After all, it wasn't as though there could be anything life-changing to be found in a place like this.

* * *

A cool breeze pulled at the dark cloak's hood, briefly obscuring the menacing visage beneath. Malice and hatred oozed from the figure, darkness streaked across his young face. The being was no man, but he'd long outgrown both childhood and innocence. A sneer formed on his lips. His master was powerful, and ruthless. All his short life he had trained for this moment, and now he would have his revenge. He turned his back on Coruscant's glittering skyline and strode purposefully toward the hangar bay. It was time for the Jedi to die.

* * *

Obi Wan willed his frustration into submission. Of all the ridiculous, foolhardy, spontaneous, Living Force-inspired Jedi in all the Order throughout a millennium's rich history, he was forsworn to the absolute Master. The was no other possible explanation for Qui Gon's plan to risk their ship parts, their very lives, on a slave boy. He attempted to release the bulk of his apprehension into the Force before he spoke into his comlink, willing his voice to an artificial calm. "What if this plan fails, Master? We could be stuck here for a _very long time_."

He felt Qui Gon's repressed chuckle across their bond and bristled slightly. "Well, my padawan, it's far too dangerous to call for help, and a ship without a power supply isn't going to get us anywhere." He paused, clearly waiting for his young apprentice to capitulate. Obi Wan sighed.

"Yes, Master. It shall be as the Force wills."

"It shall indeed." Another pause, one pregnant with foreboding. Obi Wan waited patiently. His master had been keeping something from him since they'd landed on this sand pit of a planet, and he felt Qui Gon's hesitation. Finally the deep voice came over the comm, almost as an afterthought. "And… there's something about this boy…"

Qui Gon abruptly ended the transmission, leaving Obi Wan with a very bad feeling about this mission, and the gamble they were taking to complete it, and, above all, the pathetic life form that had so captivated his mentor.

Hours later, the twin suns gently kissed the distant horizon, the cool of night settling as a welcome relief. Obi Wan took full advantage of the reprieve to flow through the kata he and Qui Gon had been working on. He sank into the Living Force, feeling the wildness of the desert planet, channeling it through his extensions, allowing his 'saber to become part of him. His master's decision to stay in town with the slave boy had given the padawan ample fuel for brooding the afternoon away, and now with a lengthy sigh he attempted to release the resulting jumble of emotions. The Force smoothed away his anxiety, his bad feeling, and the brief flare of jealousy he'd felt at the way Qui Gon had spoken about the boy- with an awe almost bordering on reverence.

He ended the kata in a lunge, 'saber parallel to the cooling sand, and breathed deeply of the warm air. For a brief moment, all was calm in the deepening twilight. Obi Wan looked up to watch the first stars appear and smiled briefly at a large meteor making a beautiful trail in the dusk- before realizing the size and trajectory were nothing like a meteor. It was a ship, small enough to be a mere shuttle, certainly carrying no more than a single passenger and an accompanying very, very bad feeling. He considered going after it until he saw how far away it would land. Even he knew better than to cross the desert at night, on foot, alone. He considered attempting to contact Qui Gon and thought better of it, smiling darkly to himself as he trudged back to the Naboo cruiser and determined that his master was likely far too busy for his padawan's inconsequential observations.

* * *

The day of the podrace came, and all on board the gleaming Naboo ship held their collective breath. Obi Wan did his best to project calm and confidence as he roamed the various rooms and corridors, but at the core of his being he was as nervous as the rest of them. They were taking a terrible risk, trusting their fate to a slave boy's podracing skills. A _human_ slave boy's skills, at that. As unacquainted as he was with the sport, Obi Wan was at least aware enough to know that a human did not possess the reflexes to pilot a podracer. Unless, of course, that human was a Jedi. A stray though flitted across his mind- surely Qui Gon didn't believe the boy was _Force-sensitive_? And if he did, surely he wouldn't be crazy enough to ask the council to induct a _ten year old_ child? Even the infamous maverick must have his limits… mustn't he?

At long last, the comlink in his hand buzzed faintly. "Master?"

"Good afternoon, padawan mine. How go things on the crippled ship?"

Obi Wan was in no mood for play. He tried desperately to keep his eyes in a forward facing position as he briskly replied. "Master, the race- is it over?"

"Race? Ah, yes. The Boonta Eve Race has been completed, and it was quite an exciting event." Qui Gon could be infuriating when he chose to be. His impatient apprenticed bounced on the balls of his feet, brows raised in welcoming salute of the statement that ought to naturally follow such a proclamation. When no further information was forthcoming, Obi Wan took a deep, centering breath. "I'm sure it was _delightful_ , Master, but _who won_?"

"Who won? Why, Anakin, of course. Did I not tell you he would?"

"I believe your exact words, Master, were 'we must trust in the Living Force, padawan'."

"Ah. Close enough. For the record, I did know he would win. The parts for the ship are on their way to you as we speak. You will supervise the repairs while I finish up some business here in town."

Obi Wan leaned his head against the bulkhead with a longsuffering sigh. "With respect, Master, what could possibly be left that is so urgent we must delay our departure further? The queen will insist-"

"The _queen_ will accept my decision and listen to my counsel, as should you, my young apprentice. I will return as quickly as I may. Oh- one more thing- please ask the steward to track down a few extra thermal blankets. He can place them in our cabin." Qui Gon cut the transmission as Obi Wan cringed outwardly, gritting his teeth against the logical conclusion behind his master's request. He took yet another deep centering breath and focused his attention on the present moment. The ship parts would be arriving momentarily, and he was more than ready to be off this desert planet for good.


	2. Chapter 2

It had taken the entire afternoon, but the repairs to the ship were finally complete. Obi Wan stepped back to admire his handiwork, with a small and appropriate amount of pride. Qui Gon's order to "supervise" had resulted in the technicians leaving the young Jedi to it, assuming, rightly, that he had both the knowledge and the skill, but overlooking the fact that they were working with the one adolescent boy in the galaxy who preferred _reading_ to _starships_. The Jedi Master had likely known this would happen- he was a firm believer in using creative means to broaden his padawan's perspective regarding things that were "for droids". The master in question being absent at the present moment, Obi Wan went in search of food, his datapad, and his bunk, in exactly that order.

He had just made it to the main concourse when a grubby, sandy, smelly, and extremely loud small person barreled in from the main hangar. He passed Obi Wan without a second look and started yelling animatedly at the co-pilot- the first adult he saw- something about a "scary red guy with a laser sword" and "MISTER QUI GON SAYS TO TAKE OFF NOW!" At his master's name, Obi Wan fled to the bridge, the urchin and co-pilot close behind. Dread filled him as he took in the scene unfolding in the desert landscape just beyond the viewport. His mentor, green saber flowing in an effortless defensive line about his body, was warding off an attack the ferocity of which Obi Wan had never seen in his life. He quickly brought his attention to the present moment and the people surrounding him in the cockpit, all as engrossed in the battle as the young Jedi had been. The child's instructions were obvious now as he sensed his master's plan, and he addressed the pilot briefly as the ship began to take off. "Fly low- over there, near the battle." When he was certain he'd been heard, he turned on his heel and ran to the hold, the blonde boy nearly tripping on his cloak hem, and Obi Wan nearly tripping over his master, who was already lying on the decking, breathing heavily.

"Master!" He had never seen his mentor so unsettled, and his concern was evident on his youthful face. "I'm all right, Obi Wan. Thank you." Qui Gon held his padawan's gaze for a moment, a trickling of anxiety and unease coursing along their bond, until their focus was shattered by a rather high, rather loud, rather obnoxious young voice to Obi Wan's immediate left. "Mister Qui Gon, sir! What was that? You were totally wizard! I've never seen anyone use a laser sword before! Yours is green! Are they all green? I mean except for bad guys, that bad guy had a red one right? That was _so wizard_. It's too bad you got on the ship before you blitzed him! Should we go back?" Qui Gon chuckled softly and gestured to the boy, then his apprentice. "Anakin Skywalker, meet Obi Wan Kenobi."

Obi Wan, ever the diplomat, extended his hand in greeting. He was unsure at first whether Anakin would return the gesture- the boy had fixed him with an intense stare, almost as if trying to read him. Obi Wan reflexively tightened his mental shields and returned Anakin's gaze, which finally rested on the lightsaber at the padawan's side. "Oh, you're a Jedi?" he asked, with a little too much skepticism in his voice. Taken aback, Obi Wan looked at his mentor, then back at the precocious boy. He nodded. "Hm. Pleased to meet you." Anakin's tone and the slight crinkling of his nose were the only indications that he might not exactly, completely, fully mean it.

There was so much to brood on- the dark stranger, the situation on Naboo, and above all, their _new guest_ \- that Obi Wan barely registered the pleasantries exchanged between Qui Gon and Queen Amidala, and only just had enough focus in the present moment to realize their loud, dirty friend was being placed in his care for the duration of the voyage. Apparently Qui Gon wished to meditate, _in peace, padawan mine_ , and had therefore seen fit to relegate his apprentice to the role of crèche master with a sly wink and a brief tug on the learner's braid. If there had been the seed of a bad feeling before, it was now swiftly growing into an intrusive weed.

Nevertheless, a Jedi did his duty- even if that duty was _crecheling-sitter_.

It was blissfully quiet in the ambassador's cabin- for the present moment. The Jedi padawan had diplomatically surrendered the first turn in the 'fresher to the guest on board; the fact that Obi Wan was desperate to meditate, thereby releasing his latent frustration and jealousy into the Living Force, and the fact that the Honored Guest was the most in need of a turn in the 'fresher, judging by both the smell and cloud of dust that seemed to follow him everywhere, certainly did not factor into this selfless decision in any way whatsoever.

It had been hours since their brief meeting in the queen's receiving room, and hours since Qui Gon had summarily dismissed both boys to fend for themselves. He'd taken the extra blankets from their quarters and expressed his determination to find somewhere else to sleep that night, along with his desire that the padawan and the former slave "get to know each other". He must have sensed Obi Wan's mental eye-rolling at that statement, for the image of a contrite youth running laps around the Temple perimiter and the accompanying "Brat" of endearment had appeared rather swiftly across their training bond.

Obi Wan had dutifully shown Anakin the entire ship, twice, because when giving a tour to someone who is obsessed with all things mechanical, once is, apparently, _not enough_. The exasperating youngling had even befriended the hero droid from their escape from Naboo, the blue and silver one, which was really to be expected, because, after all, Anakin had asked to take the entire engine apart while the ship was _in hyperspace_ , just to have a look at it, so why wouldn't he spend half a standard chatting away with an astromech droid without a translator? They had eaten dinner with the handmaiden who had accompanied Qui Gon on Tatooine, and though Obi Wan had found Padme's company pleasant, he had not been as enchanted by Anakin's constant requests for whatever was left on his plate at any given moment. It reminded him of breaking bread with Reeft, with the exception that Reeft was a Jedi and was therefore gifted with the bare minimum of table manners- enough, at least, to wait for someone to finish their meal before asking them to share it.

A deep, centering breath. Another. Another. A pounding on the 'fresher door. "Hey Jedi kid, how does this thing work?" Yet another deep centering breath. The boy had been a slave. He was not accustomed to the concepts of hygiene so deeply ingrained in those who had been raised in the temple. With a sigh, Obi Wan reached out through the Force and found the valves for water- not sonics, as he sincerely doubted they would do very much good in this particular instance. A loud whoop from the other side of the door, a shouted thanks, and all was quiet again. Blissfully quiet. _Star's end_ , Obi Wan thought. _Is this what it's like having a padawan?_ Another loud noise from the fresher. Another deep, very deep centering breath. _I am never, ever taking a padawan. Ever._

The ship's drives thrummed hypnotically beneath the cabin, the soft sworls of hyperspace passing just beyond the bulkhead. Two small figures lay outlined in the emergency lighting, one upon each amply cushioned inset bunk. Any average ten year old boy who had experienced an exciting day of freedom from slavery, podracing, laser sword battles, and bidding farewell to the only life he'd ever known would have no trouble falling to sleep in such a setting. Anakin Skywalker, it would seem, was not an average ten year old boy. If he had been, he might not be on the ship at all- and he certainly would not continue to interrupt his cabinmate's attempts to sleep with observations that could easily wait until morning.

"I miss my mom," Anakin said. Again. Then, as a pleasant change, "Do you have a mom?"

Obi Wan frowned in the darkness, a furrow appearing between his brows. "Well, no. I mean, yes. It's… complicated." Too complicated for the middle of the night, when a _Jedi_ youngling knew better than to ask such intrusive questions to begin with.

"Sooooo… which is it? You have a mom or you don't?"

A quiet sigh. "I have a mother, yes, as all humans do. I left my birth family when I was very young to become part of the Jedi order- Jedi do not have family units, you see."

Silence. Dare one hope- "Sooooo, what, you're all like orphans? Who takes care of all the kids?"

A slightly louder sigh. Obi Wan rolled over to face Anakin's bunk, resigning himself to explaining the Order's structure and precepts, as that was apparently the conversation Anakin wanted to have. In the middle of the night. "We are all raised in the crèche- together. In community."

"That sounds awful."

A very loud sigh masked quite diplomatically by a yawn. "Well, it isn't. And it is practical. Attachment is forbidden. It's a path to the dark side." _As is keeping someone awake all night,_ he added to himself.

" _Dark side_? That sounds fake. Besides, if attachment is so bad, why are you attached to Mister Qui Gon? He's like your dad, right? He adopted you?"

Well, Anakin wasn't wrong- from a certain point of view. But traditionally speaking… "No- not exactly. Qui Gon is my master. It's… it's completely different."

"Oh, right, I get it. I had a master too. Watto. Wait, if I become a Jedi, will they give me to a master? Do all Jedi kids have to be slaves to the grown ups, or just the ones that can't handle being a Jedi by themselves?"

Obi Wan was quickly reaching the dregs of his still-developing wellspring of patience. He ignored the subtle jibe and focused his energy on _educating_ the little brat. "We aren't slaves, we're padawans. _Learners_. Any Jedi whose path includes knighthood must first be apprenticed to a master. It's a term of… respect. And authority. Like _teacher_."

"Well, I've never had a teacher, but if I did I wouldn't call him _Master_."

"You _would_ if you wanted to be a Jedi. The Council- the Order- doesn't like it when people stray from tradition."

Anakin sat up in his bunk and made what could only be taken as a triumphant gesture at the boy stationed on the opposite wall. "HA- it IS slavery!"

Obi Wan sat up as well, mirroring Anakin's posture and, if he was honest with himself, his defiance. "No, it _isn't_. It's _service_."

"Psh. You keep making up these fancy ways of saying it, but that doesn't change what it is." Anakin's tone, his very Force signature, was pure arrogance. Obi Wan did his best to remember his place as a Jedi and a diplomat- and quickly swept both roles aside to assume the place of Winner.

"Traditions are _important_ ," he intoned as imperiously as possible. "They are what keep each Jedi on the path- in the light. We commit ourselves to serving the Force. It's a _choice_. It is _not_ slavery."

Anakin leaned back against the bulkhead and folded his arms. "Yeah, whatever. It's still wrong that all the kids have no moms or dads."

A very deep centering breath. Another. Anakin was young. He didn't know what he was saying. He hadn't been trained as a Jedi, and he was lucky that was the case, or the senior ranking adolescent in the room would be forced to _inspire_ him at the point of a lightsaber. It seemed the only way to end this discussion and get some sleep was to return full-force to diplomacy.

"I _am_ sorry you've had to leave your mother. I was very young when I left mine, so I don't remember her the way you do. I'm sure it must be… difficult."

Anakin's outline softened slightly.

"…I'm also sorry that your mother will have to remain a slave for the time being. I'm sure Qui Gon will do whatever he can for her when we reach Coruscant."

The boy's anger flared now, a brushfire in the Force, overwhelming in the small cabin. "She's not a slave. Not anymore. She's going to get _married_."

"Oh? That sounds… nice…?" This boy was more confusing every moment. Were weddings not a joyful event?

"It's not nice. It's _dumb_. Dumb old Lars saved up for her. He _bought_ her. I was going to free her. And now I can't, because _he_ did it."  
"Surely it matters more that she is free than who freed her?"

"NO. It _doesn't_. _I_ was going to free her. I planned it all out. She didn't give me enough time." Obi Wan found himself reeling in the wake of Anakin's rising anger, clinging to his calm center. He thought of the way Qui Gon looked at this boy- he sensed his mentor's intention to introduce Anakin to the Council. It wouldn't do for him to act like this in the Temple- what would they think of Anakin- of Qui Gon? He shook his head, willing the boy to see what such anger could mean. "Anakin- you mustn't be angry, not like this. It isn't the Jedi way-"

"Who even _cares_ about the Jedi way? You're all just a bunch of kid slaves doing whatever the masters tell you to!"

The tension in the cabin reached a suffocating level. Obi Wan wondered briefly whether he should go for help, or if Qui Gon had expected this and was testing his padawan's ability to handle an angry Force-sensitive peer? Surely he should know what to do- and yet, the only thing that came to his mind were Jedi platitudes and mantras he had learned in the crèche, in classes, in the comfort of the Temple, and here was a person who had as much respect for the Order as Obi Wan himself had for droids and flying.

The door to the cabin slid open abruptly, Qui Gon's imposing figure softened by the light spilling in from the hall.

"Hello there. I was just coming to wish you a pleasant night when I sensed a disturbance in the Force. I take it all is well in the ambassador's cabin this evening?"

Obi Wan shot his mentor a look of sheer helplessness that bordered on comical- and yet he was determined to prove that he could handle Anakin on his own. "Uh… yes, Master. Yes. Anakin and I were merely expressing… opposing points of view."

Anakin sat seething on his bunk, arms crossed so tightly he looked as though he might cut off his own air supply. "Yup. No problems here, Mister Qui Gon sir."

Qui Gon gave them each a look that suggested he was not entirely convinced. "I _see_. In that case, I trust you will have no difficulties in going to sleep- _immediately_." He swiftly but gently tucked each boy in, the bemused note in his tone counterbalancing his stern mien. A careful projection of calm mingled with a fairly overwhelming sleep suggestion ensured that both the padawan and the guest of the hour were fast asleep before the cabin door closed quietly behind him. He set his steps toward the peace of the comm room, where he might find an open space of deck and several hours rest. It had become quite obvious that he was going to _need_ it.


End file.
